


The Missing and Missy

by 12thofNever



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (1963)
Genre: Crossing Timelines, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-30
Updated: 2015-12-20
Packaged: 2018-05-04 04:02:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5319716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/12thofNever/pseuds/12thofNever
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After reuniting with the Doctor in the future, Missy decides to travel backwards in time and re-visit one of the favorite faces of her best enemy. She picks an auspicious time to do this: Jo Grant has just told the Third Doctor she is engaged and does not want to travel with him any longer. (Immediately after the events of "The Green Death")</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. "No More Maggots, Please"

    Missy was pleased with her time-wrangling skills. She had most definitely upped her game when she had become a Time Lady.  
    She landed her TARDIS discreetly on Asteroid 49777-something-or-other and prepared to disembark. She had done her research well and she knew this new body was going to be a big hit with the old dandy. She quickly fixed her skirts and popped open her compact/disintegrator to deftly apply a touch of ruby lipstick. When she caught sight of her icy blue eyes reflected back at her and sparkling like a schoolgirl's, she frowned and abruptly snapped it shut again.  
    What in all the Hundred Duff Trinkets of Rassilon was she doing? This was ridiculous.  
    It was really just a test of her newfound confidence, she insisted to herself. What better way to flaunt her new regeneration than by skipping backwards down the time stream and re-visiting a favorite face? And she so adored this particular one with his velvet and his bouffant white hair. Just picturing seeing her tormentor's old face once more had the power to make her merry again, and she scanned the short, curved horizon for her nemesis/best chum in his Third incarnation.  
    Looking up into the sky, she saw the brilliance of the continuous meteor-shower above Asteroid 49777-Whatever. It was actually more of a meteor cascade as it never ended and it streaked in prisms of colored fire. Still, there was no potential danger of any meteorites falling on their heads and she and the Doctor knew this asteroid was one of the most spectacular and little-known getaways for sightseeing Time Lords.  
    Which would have confused her as to why he had come here alone. Had circumstances been different, he would have surely taken that little blonde minx he had been dragging around with him in this particular era. Only now, Missy knew, little Jo Grant was very much out of the picture. It was because of this that she had chosen this precise, vulnerable moment in time to take advantage of her best friend and enemy's broken hearts.  
    Really, now, of all the incarnations of the Doctor she had collided with (many times on purpose, of course), Number Three was one of the more sensitive of the dolts. Yes, even more sensitive than that blonde, cricket-playing idiot. You wouldn't think it when you met Three, of course. He was imperious, dignified and sometimes a bit abrupt with his Earth pets. Yet Third had had the most to hide behind his robust facade, and his ego was as fragile as an eggshell. In her former life as the diminutive and dapper male Master, she had managed to dance behind the seemingly impenetrable fortress walls that he displayed to all who knew no better. Actually, behind them crouched a frightened and homesick child.  
    In fact, she knew this more than anyone else.  
  
    "I say!" cried the Brigadier, tossing back yet another tumbler of scotch. Jo was losing track of how many times it had been refilled. "Give us another round! In fact--five rounds rapid!"  
     She tried not to groan out loud. He was very much intoxicated and was guffawing with gusto.  
    Lieutenant Yates wandered past Jo Grant and rolled his eyes at the Brig and then at Jo herself. She shrugged apologetically although she had no idea what she should be apologizing for. Getting engaged and giving Lethbridge-Stewart an excuse to get laggered? In case working with a formerly exiled alien Time Lord wasn't enough to make him hit the drink, she reckoned her getting hitched to a Welsh Nobel Prize-winning scientist would do the trick. She looked at the Brig's grinning face, flushed to the color of a beet, and sighed.  
    Then she looked at the door of the cottage again. Sill no sign of the Doctor's return.  
    It being a celebration over her betrothal as well as the defeat of deadly giant maggots, everyone was well into the drink, with the possible exception of Jo Grant herself. She was ecstatic, of course, but yet needed the complete blessing of only one other person before she could finally and truly celebrate her own engagement. She had thought she had gotten just the encouragement she had been craving only a moment ago-- yet she suddenly felt it had been less than sincere.  
    She kept glancing at the door, hopeful of being wrong.  
    In her entire career with UNIT, Jo had never seen her commanding officer so cheerful. Lethbridge-Stewart sidled up to her again, towering over her small frame and asking a little too loudly: "Where's our illustrious science advisor? I now want to hear all about Napoleon!"  
    Jo, wincing a bit at the volume of his voice, lifted an eyebrow at him. "Oh yes? Really, sir?"  
    "Well, no," he admitted, rubbing his mustache in away that made Jo think he was checking to see if it was where he had left it. "I'm just in the mood to be more tolerant. Why not throw the good chap a bone, eh? Let 'im name-drop all he wants."  
    "I saw him leave," she said with concern and indicated the door where she had caught her last glimpse of green velvet melting away. "But he hasn't come back yet."  
    "Oh, he'll be back!" laughed the Brigadier, lifting his current scotch. "We have wine and you know the dear fellow loves his cabernet savignon! French stuff, oh bother. Give me good British product!" He downed his glass and raised it for more. "Five rounds--oh, did I use that line already?" he muttered, a bit wobbly.  
    "Yes, sir. Five times, in fact."  
    "Blast it. I'm losing my originality. Where is the Doctor? I must now tap into the infinite well of sarcasm that I save only for him!" He giggled.  
    "Oh dear," sighed Jo as Mike Yates strolled by again and made faces behind Lethbridge-Stewart's back. She angrily mimed at him to stop it.  
    A new figure ambled over, looking uncertain."Benton! You're here to refill my glass, aren't you?" The commanding officer greeted the tall sergent who also seemed somewhat distraught. Jo realized Sergeant John Benton had approached only when he heard the Doctor mentioned.      
     Benton looked down sadly at Jo. "I don't think the Doctor is coming back to the party, Miss Grant," he said.      
    "Why is that?"  
    He hesitated, looking uncomfortably at the Brigadier who was swaying merrily and red-faced at her side. "Er... well, I saw him drive off in Bessie and he looked... well, I could be mistaken..."  
    "Out with it, sergeant!" insisted the Brigadier. "He wasn't giving a Sea Devil a lift to the beach, was he?"  
    "Sir," soothed Jo, putting a steadying hand on Lethbridge-Stewart's pressed sleeve. She looked imploringly at Sgt. Benton, and he seemed even more reluctant to share his news.  
    The tall young sergeant was a sensitive man and Jo could see he was having trouble telling what he knew in front of the Brigadier. She took him gently by the arm and led him away a few feet from Lethbridge-Stewart who was pleased to see someone was finally replenishing his drink.      
    Benton whispered to Jo: "The Doctor looked...well, he looked like he had been crying."  
    Jo was stricken. "Oh no..." She put a hand to her mouth.  
    A sudden memory from her childhood came back to her then: she had been playing in her parents' library and had by accident knocked to the floor a bust of a Roman emperor or some other classical figure. She had never really known who it had been. All she really remembered was standing there in dismay looking down at what was left of that pristine visage with its noble features in shattered chunks at her feet.  
    Well, Jo, it looks like you've gone and shattered yet another regal and proud thing.  
    When her eyes filled with tears of shame, she felt Benton's kindly hand on her shoulder. "He'll get over it, Miss Grant. I'm sure this was a sudden shock for him. I don't think he ever thought there would come a time when you wouldn't be traveling with him."  
    She covered Benton's big, sympathetic hand with her small one, trying to wipe away her tears and thank him at the same time; but it was at this moment that her fiance Clifford loped from across the room and swept her up in a jubilant embrace. She was startled but nevertheless remembered she regretted nothing about her decision to marry him.  
    "We'll begin Welsh lessons right away, I think!" he proclaimed.  
    She gazed into his wonderful eyes and lifted her many-ringed fingers to ruffle his long leonine locks. "Is that so?"  
    She was guiltily distracted from Sgt. Benton, who hovered awkwardly behind Cliff. However, she saw he was soon joined by the Brigadier who began speaking to him in much lower tones than he had used all evening. The commanding officer seemed to have become a bit more serious.  
    Cliff had not heard any of the conversation concerning the Doctor. "I think your first word should be... CYRNRHONYN!" This he shouted in exultant tones and the Welsh-speakers in the room burst into laughter.  
    "Oh no, Cliff, no," she said, appalled.  
    Benton was trying to escape Lethbridge-Stewart's interrogation. "What does it mean?" he asked, turning to Clifford and Jo in desperation.  
    "MAGGOT!" Cliff supplied.  
    Jo wanted no more mention of the horrid creatures they had just eradicated, even if their memories were to be evoked in melodic Welsh. "Why don't you teach me a different word, such as the word for... "  She smiled sadly. "...Doctor?"  She felt her heart yank at her despite her best efforts to give all her attention to the young Welsh scientist.  
    She realized that the Brigadier must have asked Benton what had been troubling him because both men looked at her, subdued and sympathetic. This time, it was all three of the UNIT members who turned their heads and cast mournful glances at the cottage door.    
    Beyond it was only the chilly night air and the bleating of sheep.  
  
    Away, away, away, because he could; as far away from Wales and Earth as he could get in time and space. If he was meant to be alone, he wanted to be the most alone being in the universe. Yet, because it was in his nature to enjoy lovely things, he wanted to be comforted by spectacle: perhaps a truly magnificent setting to give his loneliness a backdrop. And so he set as his destination Asteroid Zeta Jerron 49777-56812.673, remarkable for its breathable atmosphere and continuous sky-show of myriad-colored meteors streaking non-stop around it in space. This dangerous space traffic made arrival in anything but a TARDIS highly unlikely, and even with a materializing time machine, the coordinates needed to be very, very precise in order to avoid collisions. The Doctor decided he needed this challenge or he would end up wallowing in his own misery.         The sky over the short horizon looked like a a rainbow had been blasted into fragments and was being scattered by a cosmic hurricane. It was one of the most magnificent things he might have shown his companion Jo Grant had she decided she wanted to continue to travel with him. He had so craved the freedom of other times and other worlds again, and when it was finally returned to him, he had never thought his faithful Earthbound companion would want no part of it. After several adventures, she had grown more weary of space and seemed rather to prefer her feet firmly planted on her own Terra firma. He had reasoned that perhaps it was still a bit frightening to her, all the limitless destinations and alien vistas. But then he had seen how she had looked at the King of Peladon, and then finally the young Welsh scientist. Jo had wanted a different kind of companionship, something his centuries-old alien self could not give her.  
     He was angry at himself as he threw open the doors of the TARDIS and strode despondently onto the surface of the asteroid. He never once glanced up at the wonderful jubilee in the skies above; instead, he staggered to a gently sloping incline and hurled himself down bodily on it. In a more cheerful time, this would have been a perfect viewing spot for the meteor activity; but he only lay on the hill, one velvet-clad arm thrown over his eyes, his knee bent elegantly to ease his aching back. Holding back a rush of emotion always took its toll on his back which had been injured so many times in all the fights he had tried to prevent.        
    When had he fallen in love? He had never meant for it to happen. He never, ever meant for these things to happen at all. He considered his feelings at first to be merely paternal, a winged lion protecting his earthly she-cub. She had looked up at him with wide eyes and smiles of wonder and he thought he might tear apart the universe to keep her safe and under his velvet wings. But when he had seen that gaze of endearment transferred from him to the the young, handsome and alien King of Peladon, an emotion he never thought to ever feel tugged at his hearts: jealousy. She did not want to share her young life with him, and he really should have expected this. He had had so many companions in the past and perhaps it had been Jamie who had spoiled him by wanting to stay by his side to the end of his days.  Jamie clung, literally and figuratively, to his Second self with a force that only the Time Lords themselves could tear asunder. Jo Grant, while being courageous and fiercely loyal to him as well, was not quite prepared to make the same sort of commitment the young Highlander would have made had Gallifrey itself not pulled him away from his Doctor. No, Jo Grant was seeking a companionship of a different nature and one in which he was incapable of providing.  
    His becoming irrational in his own hurt was inevitable. It must be that I am too unlikeable, he thought sourly, falling into yet another sticky pool of self-pity. Perhaps he was a little too imperious. Perhaps he was what his Second self had kept telling him he was: an overbearing, pompous oaf. And worst of all, perhaps he had  become obsolete and replaceable; the Time Lords had certainly thought this, so why not his young assistant as well?  In his zest to return to space and time, he had grown irascible with Jo's reluctance to leap into otherworldly adventures with him.  
    And finally, perhaps even on Peladon, she was looking for an escape from him.  
    He felt his eyes burn. He kept his sleeve firmly fixed over them, soaking up the incoming tide. "I can't go back there. I just can't..."  
    "Well, don't then. Oh, such melodrama," said a sarcastic feminine voice out of seemingly nowhere.  
    He started up into a sitting position, flabbergasted.  
  



	2. "Damn Those Venusians and Their Aikido!"

    Ah, the bent knee. How many times had she knocked him out or seen him faint in this Third incarnation and seen this elegant supine pose? She could never understand how someone could be both unconscious and stylish at the same time, but he managed this with aplomb. It was only later that she learned Third had a bad back. If only she had known this sooner in her early incarnation, she definitely would have used this to her advantage, punched him in the kidneys or something. Kicked him in the posterior. Pushed his knee straight when he was on the ground. But no, she had once been quite the gentleman and that would not have been gentlemanly behavior. Her old self's personal code of ethics had been far too kindly. Luckily, she had learned much since then and had long since thrown ethics out into the vacuum of space.  
    Still, Three had a bad back which was probably caused by too much Venusian aikido, she figured. Damn those Venusians and their aikido classes: when had he even had time to learn that blasted, boring, non-violent martial art? She couldn't imagine his Second self practicing aikido: he had been more of the run-for-your-life type. (And he had been the hardest incarnation of the Doctor to pursue. She had failed to track down that crafty, elusive little imp and she doubted she could have gotten between him and his precious Scottish boyfriend anyway.) No, it must have been white-haired First who had known the long-extinct Venusians.       
    The crabby old git: she missed him dearly.  
    Several of her own incarnations ago, she had only managed to catch up to the Doctor in his Third incarnation due to his having been exiled and stranded on Earth. Easy pickings, she had foolishly thought. Of course, she had been a male then and she had to admit that a change in gender was a vast improvement and she should have done this swap sooner. But gender had never been a factor in how much she loved and missed and hated her dear friend and enemy. She had forgotten just how robust, how graceful and how splendid this Third version of the Doctor had been-- and how infinitely infuriating.  
    The Doctor had been lying on the incline, knee bent, arm thrown in abandon over his face. His TARDIS was not far off, perched on the crest of the hill and he hadn't even bothered to close the doors. Its harsh white light spilled out onto the perpetual purple night of the asteroid's surface and the ship groaned at him as if trying to warn him that a malignant force was present. He obviously had not expected to hear another voice ring out on this lonely little space rock and he leapt to his feet, quickly brushing a velvet sleeve across his damp face.  
    Missy could not help but gasp when she saw him rise to his full height. She had forgotten how tall this incarnation was and how dapper he had been in his smoking jacket and frills. And she had so missed those long, exquisite legs.  
    Missy almost purred as she drank in the beloved, statuesque sight of him.  
    "Madam!" the Doctor announced indignantly. "Who are you and why are you here?"  
    She grinned and sashayed toward him, not saying a word. She swung her umbrella rhythmically at her side, delighted at his lack of recognition. Circling him slowly, appraisingly, absorbing him with her frosty sapphire eyes, she cooed, "Oh, yesssss. Just as I remember."  
    She was pleased that he looked uncomfortable by her scrutiny. The tall man folded his arms over his chest in a decidedly defensive gesture, as if she had just stumbled upon him coming out of his bath.  
    "You have me at a disadvantage, madam," he said with sharp irritation. "Are we acquainted?"  
    "Oh heavens, yes we are."  
    He was terrible at hiding his annoyance. "Why did you follow me here?"  
    She looked innocent. "What makes you think I followed you?"  
    "The coincidence is too unlikely," he snapped angrily. "Please identify yourself and your purpose for being here."  
    She made a face, comically mocking his vexation. "Yes, your Imperial Majesty of the Asteroid. Immediately." She saluted. "By way of re-introduction, I am a Time Lord like yourself. Well, Time Lady now.  And let's just say that we have indeed met before. In fact, we are VERY well acquainted."  
    She grinned like a shark. Any shark-like creature from a myriad worlds would have been impressed by her sharky-ness.  
    The Doctor squinted at her, still baffled. "Where is your TARDIS? You could not have gotten here without one."  
    "Over beyond that small cliff yonder." She pointed with her umbrella. "I was in the mood for a leisurely stroll and happened upon you here, where you're ignoring all the sky-pretties." She indicated the fluorescent streams of meteors shooting over their heads. "A very nice place for a picnic, don't you think?"  
    Her voice had taken on a slight Scottish lilt that she hoped might be reminiscent of the Highland boy he had been so enamored with in another life. Instead, much to her chagrin, she sounded more like the current incarnation of the Doctor, who was centuries into this version's future.  Just the thought of those eyebrows accompanied by an irascible growl made her flinch a bit in the presence of his former self, as if he were watching her from the future right now and waiting to throw thunder from the skies at her for interfering with his past life.  
    She would, of course, throw thunder right back at him.  
    "Madam," he went on huffily as she rolled her eyes at the irritating formality of this  title, "forgive me, but I had wished to enjoy the solitude of this location alone. To meditate..."  
    "To cry your eyes out is more like it," she smirked, shaking her head at his shocked look. "You're a sentimental sap. That thing will always be consistent no matter how many times you change your face."  
    "Who ARE you?" the Doctor demanded. "Were we at the Academy together--?"  
    "YES," she brightened, showing him all her teeth again. "Yes, indeedy." She waved her hands encouragingly. "Oh, you're so close to getting this one right. Try a little harder..."  
    She saw how flustered and angry he was becoming, and she was delighted. Her former self had never irritated him quite this much, and he was still not putting two and two together. No wonder he had never been able to get off the planet Earth again without the Time Lords' renewed assistance.  
    She posed elegantly, leaning on her umbrella, as he approached. He cocked his head to the side, narrowing his eyes, beginning to circle her. With his bouffant of snowy hair he looked very much like a prowling, somewhat confused lion. She began to strike flirtatious poses under his scrutiny. She fluttered her eyelashes at him. Nothing.  
    She frowned, getting annoyed. Oh, come on, Doctor. Really?  
    "How did you find me here? Why were you following me?" he snapped.  
    "I always follow you, dearest one," she smiled sweetly.  
    He froze. There it was, she knew it, and he did not want to believe it. She saw him fight against the impossible thought and he physically shook himself.  
    She widened her eyes, coaxing him. "Almost there, darling. I wanted to revisit some of your old faces and I admit to having been quite taken with this one."  
    The Doctor could not fail to recognize the familiar, insinuating smile she gave him then. His own eyes managed to widen more than she had ever seen in this incarnation.  
    "You...?"  
    She lifted her umbrella in a dramatic sweep and made a sudden lunge with it pointed at his chest. He instinctively feinted and spun out of the way. She twirled it with a flourish and snapped it, en garde. "Oh, how I miss this!" she laughed. "Do find a stick or something so we can play! We had such great chandelier-swinging sword-fights!"  
    He staggered backwards as if she had indeed managed to run him through.  
    "Yes, it's me."  She threw her arms wide, theatrically.  
    He only stared.  
    She swung the umbrella onto her shoulder now, confident she had the upper hand now and did not need to resort to the use of a weapon. "As I recall, you didn't seem to mind when I tied you up a bit back then. Why don't I tie you to a maypole again just for old time's sake, hmm?" She grinned wickedly and wiggled her eyebrows.  
    He glared. "Master--"  
    "Missy. Please. Time Lady." She pouted. "I would think you'd be a lot more enthusiastic. Your future self was quite astonished with the new me."  
    "My future self?" he gasped. "My 'old faces'? Just how far into my future timeline are you?"  
    "Oh, let's say a good millennium or two," she shrugged.  
    He swayed a bit.  
    "How is that even possible? Even the oldest Time Lords run out of regenerations by then..."  
    She sighed. "Look, it's a long and complicated tale and I'm in it too. You'll find out for yourself eventually."  
    He was ashen. She tilted her head at him with a pretense of sympathy. "Oh, now, this hasn't been a really good day for you now, has it? Seeing me again right after losing your little blonde puppy?"  
    His face turned to stone again quite quickly when he went into protective mode. "I've told you to leave her alone. I don't care what form you're in."  
    Missy held up her hands, defensive. "I will do nothing to the little strumpet, you have my word. But it does seem like she's certainly left YOU all alone. Left you for someone she can make a family with." She knew this was a successful blow when she saw him recoil. "Here you are, crying over another one. Don't get me started on how many, many, many more you're going to lose over the next few centuries. Pitiful, really."  
    He openly looked stricken now and she was pleased. Another imaginary sword through one of his hearts. However, once again, he was quick to recover and he seemed to grow in size in his fury.  
    "Why are you here?" he growled. "Don't you have that future incarnation of myself to torment? Aren't you just re-treading past failures at this point?"  
    "Ouch!" she said, offended.  
    


	3. "You Have a Future in Velvet"

    Missy saw she might have to resort to foolish, possibly homicidal measures to get her point across to the Third Doctor. Seriously, she was sick of all the chivalry and heroics when it came to this incarnation. It almost made her want to...  
    Take advantage of it?  
    She looked up into the sky. She smiled slyly, thinking: Now here's a plan. It will be a bit drastic but will still be an absolute blast. Probably quite literally.    
    Coquettishly, she said, "I wanted to see this version of you again. It's the YOU that the ME became re-acquainted with after our long, long, bitter separation. We missed each other, right? The clashing blades over sandwiches, the hovercraft chases. My fondness for plastic things. Oh come, come." She gave him a playful nudge with the point of her umbrella which he swatted away, irritated. "We did, didn't we? Miss... each ...other?" She fluttered her lashes demurely.  
    The Doctor looked at her askance. "I do admit to having been mildly intrigued with our sparring matches..."  
    She grinned. "Well, there you go! I can actually work with 'mildly intrigued'." She began to walk a slow ponderous circle around him again while he stood there, stiff and frowning. "You see, your newest self is very much like you are now-- right down to certain wardrobe choices." She caressed one of his glossy sleeves and he yanked his arm away from her. "Velvet is in your future-- several of yourselves are drawn to it. One is quite the silly romantic. The other is a grinning lunatic. The last has a glare that would set a planet on fire." She lifted an eyebrow. "I'm not kidding. He's actually set a few planets on fire."  
    "Why are you telling me this?" the Doctor asked, narrowing his eyes to slits and looking at her down the length of his proud nose.  
    Missy sighed and shrugged; now was as good a time as any, she supposed.  
    "Look out!" cried the Doctor and suddenly he was bodyslamming her out of the way of a descending fireball. The two of them were thrown yards away by the impact of blazing green space debris erupting onto the surface of the asteroid where they had just been standing. It sounded like the universe itself had detonated around them. The noise deafened them both as the ground shook and then ignited into viridescent flame, smoke billowing from the crater that now contained the smoking remains of the fallen meteorite.  
    Coughing, both rolled over and realized their clothes were scorched and covered in soot. The Doctor was brushing off the mess from his formerly impeccable jacket, looking more murderous by this development than she had ever seen him before.  
    "Oh dear," she coughed, waving her hands to clear the air. "So much for the lovely velvet."  
    In a rage, the Doctor stalked over to the emerald glow of the crashed meteorite. "But that's impossible! This asteroid is perfectly safe. No meteor has fallen out of the sky for Gallifreyan ages. They burn to harmless ashes in Zeta Jerron 49777-56812.673's atmosphere. Otherwise, this asteroid would be pitted all over with craters." He stooped over to inspect the collision between meteorite and asteroid surface, then straightened and turned toward her with slow deliberation. "Unless it was contrived to happen...?"  
    Missy was still sitting with splayed legs on the ground, flapping her skirts a bit to help dispel the smoke and soot. "Oops," she said cheerfully.  
    The Doctor, his hands curled into angry fists, strode over to her and glared. "WHY? Have you finally, truly gone insane on top of your greed and malice?"  
    Now she was very annoyed indeed. She heaved herself up and waved an emphatic arm at the meteorite pit. "I wanted to shake you out of your ridiculous melancholia! Why not a near miss with a flaming, radioactive space rock to get your attention and a little adrenaline going, just like old times?" She opened her umbrella to inspect it and saw that it was in charred tatters. She snarled at it then, beginning to imitate Three's somewhat nasal inflection: "'Oh boo hoo, the little bimbo left me for a pretty earth boy who's not even seven hundred years old yet.' Well, you know-- so WHAT? GET OVER IT! It's going to be an ongoing thing with you! You're going to LOSE PEOPLE in much more TERRIBLE ways than them getting hitched to a vegetarian Welshman! Who, by the way, looks an awful lot like your Eighth incarnation, and he wears velvet too! COINCIDENCE?" She stomped around in a circle, shaking her umbrella.  "Oh, why do I BOTHER?"  
    The Doctor just stood there, utterly mystified by her.  
    "So," he said evenly, "you had to emphasize this concern for my emotional well-being by nearly blowing us both up with a green fireball?"  
    "I was trying to distract you!" Missy snapped.  
    He rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, I must say you've succeeded admirably."


	4. "We'll Need Sandwiches."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Missy and the Third Doctor bicker and two different Doctors carry on. And Gallifreyan-like silver trees show up again (the common theme that runs through my little group of stories here. The small planet where they grow first appears in "Birthsong.")

    The Doctor stood there rubbing his neck for what seemed like a small eternity. Missy once more considered his bad back and what she had done to it when he had pushed her to "safety".  She still had a chance to make it worse by punching him in the kidneys and running away laughing.  
    Finally he said: "Tell me. How did you do it? Make the meteor fall through the protective atmosphere?"  
    She smirked seductively. "A girl must maintain some of her secrets."  
    "You punched a hole in the atmosphere with a remote detonator probably located on your person, allowing one of the smaller meteorites access through."  
    Damn him. She smiled. "Perhaps."  
    The Doctor looked impressed, despite his obvious disapproval of her almost getting the both of them killed. "You didn't have that advanced level of technology when I knew you... er, the you that I currently know, that is."  
    "You currently know both versions of me," she said brightly. "Aren't I just a delight?"    
    "'Delightful' isn't the first thing that comes to mind, sadly enough," he muttered. He considered.  "Have you ever crossed your own time stream? Met yourself, so to speak...?"  
    She looked at him quizzically. "No. Can that be done?" Oh, the possibilities. Some of them so deliciously disturbing that it filled her with sudden glee. However, she mentally vetoed this idea: she did not need more competition. Multiple scheming selves in one time and place would be an absolute headache.  
    "Oh, yes," said the Doctor, wary of her attentive interest in this topic. "Although it's against the First Law of Time Travel."  
    She waved a dismissive hand. "Pfah! Laws." She eyed him. "You have done this then?"  
    He looked uncomfortable. "Yes. I can't say I enjoyed it very much."  
    "Why are you asking me then?" She lifted an eyebrow.  
    "I've... only recently learned some unpleasant things about revealing too much to another self." He looked off toward the horizon and instead found the smoking meteorite crater. He frowned.  
    "Past or future?"  
    "What?" He blinked.  
    She rolled her eyes. "Did you meet your PAST or FUTURE self?"  
    "Past," he muttered.  
    "The grouchy old git?"  
    "I beg your pardon!" he barked imperiously.  
    "Number One, the first you I met. Once quite the dashing boy, I remember. A bit of a slacker and a daydreamer. And such a self-righteous temper!" She eyed Three and then mumbled, "Well, that hasn't changed much. So, was it him?"  
    "Yes..."  
    "Another? The little hobo?"  
    He ground his teeth and said nothing. She laughed. "Oh, to be a fly on the wall! Did you two come to blows?"  
    "I wanted to snap that blasted recorder in two, if that's what you're asking me. Yet we somehow managed to...how shall I say it? ...enlighten each other."  
    "And how did the Time Lords react to your breaking the First Law?"  
    "They initiated it. It was the Omega situation. You must know all this already," he said testily. "Don't they monitor Time Lord activity in your era? They will certanly try to hunt you down for interfering in my current time line."  
    "No," she said, airily. "No, they won't be doing much of anything anymore."  
    Her cryptic words had unnerved him. He looked at her suspiciously, then she saw a flicker of fear in his eyes. "Did something happen  to the Time Lords? What..." He shook himself again, a bit like a sheepdog. "No. NO. This is dangerous talk."  
    She grinned, drawing closer to him. "Yes," she cooed, "isn't it? I could tell you all you need to know and you won't like a bit of it. Are you afraid of changing a terrible future?" She fingered his velvet sleeve and this time he did not pull away. "In this present incarnation, my offer still stands."  
    He looked down at her, lifting a dignified white eyebrow. "And which offer was that?"  
    "To travel with me--just the two of us. Two Time Lords. No need to worry about those pitifully dull human companions. You'd have me to entertain you. Always." She spread her arms wide and spun in a graceful circle. She looked at his stony face, awaiting acceptance. When his arrogant expression did not change, she decided to fire all her missiles: "Because what will happen to you even in the next few centuries will make your silly little heartbreak today seem like a hiccup. Not only will more companions leave you but they will also die. And what's much worse: their deaths will be your fault." She watched his face as he matched her stare, content to see she was frightening him. "All the turmoil, the horror and the destruction to come can be avoided if you'd just stop taking in these pets. Occasionally, you'll choose a few who aren't from earth, but the results will be very nearly the same. They leave. They die. You get upset. You know you can come with me instead and we can change all this.  It's a better option for everyone, don't you see?" She shrugged. "Especially when the Time War occurs..."  
    "The...what?"  
    She had made him afraid. Good. She grinned wickedly and purred: "I can tell you all about it. I can tell you right now. Would you like that?" She held out the verbal bait.  
    "Yes!" he cried too suddenly. Then he threw his hands up in refusal. "No! NO. You're using my curiosity against me as well as my compassion for those future lives I will have sworn to protect. I do not need to know any of this. I should not even know about YOU. And how do I know you're really who you say you are and these events you speak of aren't just lies to manipulate me?"  
    Of course she was trying to manipulate him. But she certainly wasn't lying and she could not mask her hurt now. She was genuinely disappointed that his chivalrous nature would not allow him to change even the bleakest future.  
    "Look at me. You can't see me in here? You of all people?" Her pale blue eyes pleaded, but he only glared; his face was marble.  
    "I don't know you."  
    "Yes. Yes you do!" she shouted. "Look at me. Look closer!" She reached upwards and grabbed the sides of his head, pulling him violently down and face-to-face with her. She grabbed handfuls of his thick snowy hair and pushed her lips against his. Startled, he tried to pull away but her fingers slid down to the sides of his face in gentle strokes. Releasing him, she said his true name, his poetic Gallifreyan name. "You remember that kiss."  
    He panted, shaking. He stepped away from her. "I told you never to come near me or my loved ones ever again. How many thousands of years will it take before you listen to me?"  
    "Doctor," she said and there was real anguish in her voice this time, "I've already done it. A hundred times over. And I just wanted to come back to you now--two thousand years into your past-- to tell you that I kept coming back for you. I never stopped coming back for you."  
    "YOU haven't happened yet, " he snarled. "This version of YOU isn't in my present. You have no place here and you need to leave me alone immediately."  
    "Or what?" she hissed back at him. "Or what will you do to me?"  
    "Walk away from you," he said simply. "I've done it before."  
    "Yes," she said. "Yes, you have." She gritted her teeth. "And you'll do it again. And again. But I'll keep coming back. Again and again."  
    He sighed. "Give up. This is a ridiculous game we play. If it goes on centuries from now as you say it does, it is only a madness that you've allowed to continue. Not I." He turned away from her. Again.  
     He walked toward the open door of his TARDIS.  
    "It is not a madness!" she shouted. "I am not mad!"  
    He gave her a brief, wondering glance. "The only thing I've seen truly changed in you is your grasp on reality. Good luck with my future self. From what you've told me, I like his style."  
  
    Once again, she allowed him to vanish into his antiquated TARDIS while she only stood there, shaking in fury, remembering the despair of her own younger male self and his complex devotion to his old friend. She had needed to see him at his weakest moment in this incarnation; she had thought she had chosen the destination and timing of this moment well. However, she had failed miserably. One of the fixed elements of time was the Doctor's wretched obstinance.  
    She had told herself all those centuries ago that she would never shed another tear for him. So instead, she stood on the empty hill of the asteroid where viridian smoke was wafting from the newly created crater. She then looked up and laughed at the meteor-strewn sky. His Third self had been such an innocent, as was she to believe he could love her in any of her incarnations.  
    She assured herself he wouldn't remember a thing. She had slipped a Retcon pill into his mouth when she had kissed him and by now, the memories of a future female Master would be dissolving like so much morning mist from his addled brain.    
    "Fine," she muttered to herself when she was again at the controls of her own TARDIS. "Fine. Into my own time then. And I know exactly where he'll be now." She entered the coordinates from memory. "He'll want to remember Gallifrey without ever setting foot on it again. He'll want to see silver trees."  
    The first sound that greeted her when she opened the doors onto the small, lush planetoid was the lonely sound of an electric guitar.  
  
    The slender silver-haired figure sensed her presence and gave his song a finishing strum. Number Twelve, the Eyebrows, the glare that could set a planet on fire. He turned and faced her, folding his hands on the top of his guitar.  
    "So, are you finally done mucking about with my past self?" he asked.  
    The welcoming grin for him froze on her face. She found herself instead gritting her teeth at him in alarm. She stood stiffly, caught like a thief in the act.  
    He strode up to her, the red lining of his jacket flapping in the light breeze. Standing before her, he fixed her with those furious eyebrows. "The Retcon drug wore off, you know," he growled.  "It took two thousand years, give or take a billion, but I remember you trying to drop a green meteorite on my head back on Asteroid Zeta Jerron 49777-56812.673. And you ruined a perfectly nice green velvet coat."  
    "Oh, that!" She smiled and waved a dismissive hand. "Silly me. Past history!"  
    "Also, you forgot to change into another outfit," he observed, lifting a shaggy eyebrow. "You came right over here in a huff, didn't you?"  
    She looked down at herself and was astonished to find he was right: she was wearing the same jacket and skirts burnt by the exploding meteorite. She had been so angry and flustered by his Third self that she had overlooked a small thing like donning a new ensemble to confront his future incarnation. She tried to hide her self-anger, ashamed she did not make her entrance in her usual flamboyant, sartorial way. Presentation was everything, after all.  
    "Oh. Oh yes." She tried to laugh. She made to straighten her disheveled hair and smoothe her skirts. She reached into her pocket and flipped open her compact to view herself. Her face was covered in soot.  
    "Oh dear. Well, I look quite a fright." She pulled out her lipstick.  
    The Doctor's face, however, was grim, unreadable. After a few minutes watching her powder her nose and pat at her messy hair, he sighed wearily.  
    "You did try to warn me. I don't know if I should thank you for that," he said quietly.  
    She looked up, astounded. Her sapphire eyes grew huge in disbelief. She snapped her compact (also handy disintegrator) shut.  
    "Y-you're welcome." Did she just stammer? When did she ever stammer? Why the bloody hell was she stammering?  
    "You were my best friend once," he said this as gently as he could with his deep growling burr, "but you do know that I could never accept your offer, even if we were the last two beings left in the universe."  
    She sighed this time, screwing up her mouth and rubbing her nose. It came away soot-covered. "Yeah, I get that."  
    "So I realize I'm just entertainment for you at this point."  
    "I suppose," she shrugged, resigned.  
    He unstrapped his guitar and gently placed it in a patch of nearby flowers. He gazed at her as she shuffled uncomfortably. "Tell ye what. Go get us some sticks. I haven't had a good sword-fight with you in... oh, a billion years."  
    Missy's eyes grew wide. The Twelfth Doctor was actually smiling at her.  
    She grinned. She threw her fist into the air and whooped. "Sticks, yes! Like old times!" She pranced over to one of the nearby silver trees that reminded them both so much of the ones that grew on Gallifrey. She grabbed some fallen branches and tossed one to him. With a sly smirk, he caught it deftly in one hand.  
    Theatrically, Missy lifted her sword-stick and struck a pose. "We need sandwiches. En garde!"      
  
    Sergeant Benton had just received a very puzzling account from the Brigadier about ghostly apparitions appearing in the scientists' dorm. "Oh, what now?" he groaned. He was hungry and could really use a cheese sandwich about now.  
    Then what he saw made him forget his appetite: the Doctor strode past him, his green velvet jacket in charred tatters. This alarmed Benton but it did not seem to faze the Doctor  
    "Doctor!" he grinned. "You're back! I'm so glad! I thought maybe that --"  
    "Yes, that's all well and good, dear man, but where is Lethbridge-Stewart?"  
    "Well, he's over in the science compound and..."  
    "Thank you. Must dash."  
    Benton watched him hurry off, slightly hurt by his casual dismissal, yet nevertheless grateful that he was back to his old abrupt self. He had a brief memory of the Doctor hunched in Bessie's seat, repeatedly wiping his eyes on his sleeve before shifting the old yellow roadster into gear and speeding away from the Welsh farm. He'll miss Miss Grant, yes, but time always heals...  
    "Oof!" cried the lissome young brunette woman he had collided with.  
    "Oh! Pardon me, miss!" Benton said, embarrassed. "Terribly sorry. My mind was wandering. I'm just a clumsy oaf sometimes."  
    "Oh, I'll live!" she chuckled. "I've had worse scraps than crashing into a tall soldier. Say, you wouldn't happen to know where the science wing is, would you...? I'm, er... expected."  
    Benton pointed helpfully, much to her obvious relief.  
    "Sorry, miss, I didn't catch your name?"  
     She looked unsure about being candid with him, but Benton had been told by the Doctor (and even the Master!) that he had a guileless face that made others trust him. She decided that she did and finally extended her hand. "Sarah Jane," she said cheerfully and her handshake was firm and confident. Then she began to trot away, adding: "Sarah Jane Smith. Thank you!"      
    He held up a hand in a hesitant wave.  
    Benton had the most peculiar premonition that the Doctor would no longer be alone.          
  


END


End file.
